Monday, September 28, 2015

Its Monday morning;
My hands sense the warmth,
From a flower patterned teacup;
I walk out to the garden,
To look at the ixora bush;
Between sips of green tea,
An orange coloured butterfly,
With shades of brown,
And spots of white,
Wanders across the bush;
Lightly stopping on a bloom,
Drinks deeply from a flower,
Then flits across to another,
Drinks again, then flits back
To the one before,
And does the same;
We breakfast, the two of us,
The butterfly and i;
Me sipping and watching,
The butterfly while feeding,
Applauding the ixora's nectar;
An ordinary scene,
A Monday scene,
From the theatre of sustenance.

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #31, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #30, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Ixoras - hardy, hearty blooms; in reds, yellows, oranges and pinks to dismiss every gloom; they decorate my garden; they love the rain; more and more pop up, in the splendor of a sunny day after it rains; like tiny umbrellas they cluster together, bunches to delight every admirer. So i pick some, bringing delight to my table.

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #29, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

Friday, September 11, 2015

PROCESS SURREAL
He’s the madman, slicing off an ear,
Spoiling his metaphor,
Charts a sentence through the valley
Of amore
Flays arms and heart in rhythmic stupor
And for what?
The juxtaposition of a simile perfect;
All’s for nought, and nought but dread,
This creature like Andromeda chained,
Not to jagged rock, or torture pole,
Bounded though, to inertia where,
Gravity tells no tale orated to,
The weightlessness of words.

Written for Words Count with Mama Zen
from the inspiration of Jean Cocteau's first film The Blood of a Poet (1930) to write a poem in less than 80 words

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea ).
Welcome to Monday WRites #28, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

The challenge: to create a poem, prose poem or piece of microfiction (less than 150 words) with 'no under drawing,' by taking an idea, a place, a person, an event or a mood, and quickly fleshing out a portrait of it in a blur of words. Use language to mass light and dark verbal 'tones' and build up your poem in dashes of description and image. The end result should be something immediate but 'misty' which gets its effect primarily through visualization.

My husband whom i loved dearly, left, after seven years of marriage, on the pretext of going away to further his studies. Left me with a broken heart, two adorable children and yes the feeling that he's coming back soon everything will be alright. This feeling phased into a reality of abandonment, fear and disillusion.
Hmm, all that holy water in the font, (i'm Catholic), and i would leave church, still feeling angry; till one very early dawn (1995), i experienced a wide awake, dream like experience, when a voice spoke to me, in a beam of light. That, somehow, transformed me into an enduring faith filled person. Sorry no turning back; come what may.
Though still married, i am living alone, and loving my lonesome life. My children are happily grown, and i'm now a grandmother of a lovely little two-going-on-three-year old girl. I feel blessed, even on the worst of days.